Where you go, my mind will follow
by if-llamas-could-fly
Summary: Dean went to Purgatory, Castiel had his penance, and Sam found his normal. If only it could be that easy. Sam and Dean will never never be apart, not really. Multi-chaper, rated T because reasons.


**A/N Hey guys! Uh, well, I've had the idea for this fic for ****_ages_**** but I never really got around to writing it... anyway, now that my finals are over and done with, and I have a four month break now, so I wrote it! *Children yelling in approval and applauding* Thank you, thank you! *Bows* Anyway, warnings of ANGST (I dare you to find a single story of mine that doesn't have angst... seriously, go ahead, it's frigging impossible...) and there's Amelia in this story, so if you hate her even half as much as I do, yeah, watch out. This is just the first chapter, there is ****_so_**** much more o come! :)** _~Sammy_

* * *

Sam woke up with a splitting headache that rivaled even the worst of his migraines. He pressed his fingertips to his temples, pushing hard in the hopes of relieving some of the pain, but it only served to worsen the throbbing ache. Sam groaned, the pounding in his skull was agonizing.

He continued to massage his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut, and wondering why Dean hadn't said anything yet. His brother was usually always by his side whenever Sam showed even the slightest signs of being in pain.

"Sam?" said a voice, but the voice was all wrong, it wasn't the low, gruff, worried-yet-trying-to-be-manly tone his brother adopted when Sam was hurt. "Sam, are you alright?" there was the voice again. The voice wasn't Dean, so why couldn't it just shut up and leave him alone? "Sam! Look at me! What's wrong?" Sam gathered the courage to open his eyes, and his vision was filled with pale skin, curly black hair, and more importantly, brown eyes that were full of worry. Not the green eyes that sparkled with humor even as worry shone through, no, these were the brown eyes he had attempted to replace them with. As if the person behind those brown eyes could ever even hope to match the being who's jade eyes could reassure Sam with one glance, could convince him that everything would be okay. Sam pushed aside those thoughts because the emerald eyes were gone, and all he had were his own hazel ones, and the chocolate eyes that were asking him a million questions.

Sam shrugged slightly, cradling his head in his hands, "Yeah, I'm alright, just a headache. Go back to sleep." The brown eyes widened and the worry increased, "Sam-" "I said I'm fine Amelia. Just, go back to sleep. Please." Amelia's brown eyes were searching, and Sam kept his hazel eyes blank. Amelia sighed, and her eyes slid shut as she lay back down on the bed, burying her face in her pillow. Sam knew he should go back to sleep, or at least take something for his headache, but he couldn't find the energy to move. Because Dean was gone, Sam was alone, and there was nothing that could possibly change that. So Sam accepted the beating that his brain was taking as his punishment for losing his brother, and he silently wept till his exhausted mind finally fell into the depths of unconsciousness.

* * *

Sam was walking Riot in the park, taking in the fresh air. He sat down on a bench, Riot by his feet, and he watched the trees sway in the breeze. The sunlight dappled the ground, and the sounds of children playing floated through the wind. The perfect day.

Black spots filled his vision, and the air thickened. Sam struggled to take in a breath, choking on the dense atmosphere. Pain ripped through his mind, and Sam gasped, the lack of oxygen and the headache attacking him, leaving him helpless. Riot whined, shoving his nose into Sam's face as Sam slid off of the bench onto the ground. His hazel eyes slid closed.

* * *

The trees dancing in the wind above him changed, the sky darkened, the leaves no longer shone, the entire world was grey. Sam was running, running for his life. The plants whipped him with their unforgiving branches, the air was filled with the stench of death, the forest echoed with shrieks, and still Sam ran. He didn't know where he was, disn't know what was going on, he didn't care. He knew that he should care, that he should stop and figure out how he ended up wherever he was, but his hunter instincts were screaming. Screaming to keep running, to keep going, no stopping. It didn't matter, he just had to run.

As Sam sprinted into a clearing, he finally paused, still tense, crouching so that he could take off again in an instant. The sound of approaching footsteps reached Sam's ears, and he whirled around to meet the threat. He brandished the machete that was in his hands, not questioning the origin of the weapon, happy to just have something to defend himself with. A man stepped out from behind a tree, smirking. His clothes were ripped and torn, mud caked his hands, and streaks of dried blood ran through his short blonde hair. Sam tightened his grip on the machete, and the man growled, revealing a second set of ridiculously sharp fangs. Vampire. Sam's apprehension faded slightly. He knew, after all, how to deal with vampires. How did it matter that he didn't hunt anymore? Fighting was second nature to him. The vampire crouched down before running towards Sam, fangs bared, ready to pounce on him. Sam's arms moved of their own accord, and before he even realized what was going on, the vampire's head was three feet away from its body, and the machete was coated with blood. Sam watched the blood drip from the blade with a morbid fascination, intrigued by the thick red liquid mixing with the soil, laughing a short laugh as exhilaration filled him. His adrenaline was pumping, and Sam couldn't remember a time when he felt better.

* * *

"Sir! Sir! Are you alright? Do I need to call an ambulance?" Sam opened his eyes to strange unfamiliar, blue-green eyes. He blinked a few times, disoriented. Finally Sam could concentrate on where he was, on the face that was peering down at him, on the unmistakable whimpering noise that Riot was making as the anxious dog sniffed away at Sam's chest. Sam slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position, surreptiously checking himself for injuries. He was in the park again, unharmed, and not covered in the blood that had been coating him but a moment ago. He looked up at the blue-green eyes, and the old man they belonged to. The man looked nice enough, but Sam found himself feeling wary. "Christo." he mumbled, checking for a reaction. When the old man didn't even flinch, Sam relaxed, and took the man's proffered hand. The old man helped Sam up to his feet, and he looked Sam over, evidently worried. Sam gave the man a reassuring smile, "Thanks. I- Uh... I don't know what happened, I just, got a really bad headache, I guess." The man's aquamarine eyes twinkled with understanding. "Migraine?" he questioned, his gravelly voice reminding Sam of Cas so much, that Sam almost burst into tears right there. Sam nodded, and flashed a wavering grin at the man. "Yeah, but it's gone now. Um... thanks, for, you know, uh... helping me." Sam picked up Riot's leash, and tried to calm down the panicked dog. The man's eyes were anxious, but he nodded a goodbye, and slowly walked away, his white hair shining in the buttery sunlight. Sam sighed and started the walk back to his house. He was not looking forward to seeing Amelia and having her freak over his... whatever it was that just happened. Yeah, he'd rather face off a wendingo...

* * *

He hunted every night. Sam knew that Amelia was starting to panic. Heck, he was panicking himself. He had no idea what was happening to him.

Every night he was in that forest again, running. Every night he woke up, drenched in perspiration, adrenaline pumping, half expecting a fugly to jump out of the shadows and rip his throat out. Every night Riot whined as he curled up to his owner. Every night Amelia looked closer and closer to just dragging his ass down to a psychiatrist. Every night Sam wondered if he was going crazy again. At least he wasn't having hallucinations again. That chapter of his life was over, and he did not want it coming back to haunt him. Sam doubted he could deal with that without his brother there to remind him of what was real. Castiel was missing too, probably just as dead and gone as Dean was. Sam had nobody, so he just sucked it up, calmed Riot down, lied to Amelia, and dealt with his ridiculous nightmares.

...

Sam was starting to wonder if this kind of sleep was really restful for him, because he seriously doubted that running till his lungs were fit to burst was the most healthy exercise. The branches were whipping his arms and legs again, the wind slapping his face raw, the stench of fresh blood attacking his senses. Sam didn't understand the urge to run, he was just glad that it existed, because every single time he stopped, there was a new monster to face off, a new weapon in his hands to gank 'em with, a new fascination with the gore that coated his hands.

Sam sprinted, the sore muscles in his legs burning, it was the Cage all over again, but stopping meant that the torture would begin. So he ran. He paused when he reached yet another clearing, his legs locking in place, his hands tightening around the handle of the long blade that currently passed as his weapon. His eyes were wide open, taking in everything around him, his breathing was steady despite the marathon he had just put his body through, his nerves were tense, he was tracking every rustle of the leaves, every gust of wind, every snap of twigs, every shift in this maddening world. It was different this time, Sam was sure. Something was off, he wasn't being stalked by some random bloodthirsty son-of-a-bitch, no, this was something else entirely.

Sam had learnt from a very young age, how to determine threats and analyse situations just by relying on his sense of hearing. It helped whenever his Dad had been in a bad mood, and Sam had needed to stay out of his way or face being backhanded into a wall. It helped when Dean used to try to hide his hunting injuries, and the tiny moans were Sam's only clue to his brother's discomfort. It helped when Sam was alone, when his brother didn't have his back. It helped Sam right now.

The approaching footsteps were light but determined, and Sam could tell from the crunch of dried leaves and the brush of fabric against leaves and rotting wood, that the pace was as steady as possible to be in an uneven terrain like this. The river gushing nearby, the water tumbling over smooth rocks, roared in Sam's ears, and he cursed when the footsteps suddenly paused, leaving him blind to the whereabouts of this new maybe-maybe-not threat.

Sam didn't even dare to move a muscle, didn't dare to breathe too loud, didn't dare let himself fall into a false sense of security. A dry branch was pulverized underfoot with an almost deafening crunch, and Sam smirked, ready to face off his imbecile of an opponent. The forest wavered in front of his eyes, everything suddenly too bright, too clear, too sharp, and Sam rethought his assumption that this wasn't a threat. The footsteps grew closer and closer, and Sam grew tenser with every passing second and every slither of feet over the forest floor. Finally, Sam's sharp eyes caught sight of the creature. It was a normal, plain, not-at-all-weird looking man. He was dressed in jeans and an old white t-shirt, his hair slightly messed up, a casual smile on his thin lips. Yet, even his everyday-joe appearance set Sam on the edge.

There was something wrong with this guy, there just had to be. Every creature Sam had come across in this dream-scape had been a monster. Every single one, not a single exception. Sam crushed the tiny voice that wondered what kind of a beast that made him then, for he too was traipsing around in this never-ending forest.

Finally Sam looked the man in the eye, and shuddered when he saw the glint in the dull-brown eyes. That was a cruel gleam, a vindictive spark, a merciless gaze. He had only ever seen it before in the eyes of a monster he had never hoped to face again. He hated the memories it brought up, hated the way it reminded him that he had lost his bright green-eyed brother and ocean-blue-eyed friend. Because that man right in front of him, was one of the beasts that had taken his family away. That man was a leviathan.

Sam twirled the blade in his hands, staring at the beast and trying not to panic. He had never faced leviathan alone before. He had always had his brother at his back, always had his family to carry him forward. Sam tried desperately not to let the monster see his fear, but his attempts were futile, for the creature grinned at the anxiety coursing through the young Winchester. Sam watched the leviathan stalk closer with an almost clinical disinterest. Dean was gone, he should be gone too. The Winchester legacy, both brothers eradicated at the hands of leviathan, how appropriate an end. Sam closed his eyes, the blade hanging slack in his grip, and waited for the inevitable.

Light flashed, so bright it hurt even behind his closed eyelids. Sam's eyes flew open, momentarily blinded by the fading brilliance. The leviathan dropped to the ground with a thud, but Sam didn't even spare it a second glance. He was staring at the outstreched hand, staring at the disheveled brown-black hair, staring at the scruffy beard, staring at those azure eyes that could belong to nobody else. Staring at the trenchcoat that had until recently taken up permanent residence in the Impala's trunk. Staring at the one thing his brother had refused to give up on. Staring at the creature who was now looking at him with an expression somewhere between shock, amazement and horror. Staring at his dead friend. The angel's voice was low, and pained, "Sam."

* * *

"_Castiel_." Sam shot straight up, gasping for breath even as he reached instinctively for the knife under his pillow that was never kept there anymore. Sam looked around the room, wild-eyed, and thanked whatever fate had Amelia working a late shift at the animal hospital. He wasn't alone though, Riot was pressed up next to him, whining and pressing his cold wet nose to Sam's cheek in a gesture of comfort. Sam pushed the dog away, winning a whimper as a reward, and stumbled his way over to the bathroom. The tasteful lighting seemed too harsh after the dim forest, the tiles seemed too superficial, the world seemed too surreal after what he had seen. Sam peered at his reflection. His eyes were sunken and dark, his face was gaunt, his hands were shaking violently, his skin had lost every semblance of color. Blood dripped from his nose, splattering into the sink. Sam wiped it away with trembling fingers, despair filling the void that was his mind.

The last time this had happened was years ago, with the whole demon-blood fiasco. The visions, the sleep deprivation, the bloody nose, the uncontrollable shaking, the irreplaceable feeling of being alone. It was exactly as it had been all those years ago, the only thing missing was a freaked-out-of-his-mind big brother.

_Oh God, Dean, what do I do?_

* * *

**A/N Yay! Sammy angst galore! Okay, so, you know the drill, read this, review if you wanna, wipe away the tears, and ANTICIPATE! :) **_~Sammy_


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